My honest concern goes to Mother Nature
For she proves as fickle as I
A late September with the winds of December,
A truly wicked surprise

But she has my understanding not scolding
For too many times have I,
Taken what was once a peaceful October
And scorched it with the fires of July

The nymph steals glances from behind the glass
Bright blue, sharpened stare
Between bushes, amidst the grass

Fingers so nimble, they slipped through the cracks
Slid down the molding,
Dyed the carpet, stained the cat

Her smirk lived within speckles of paint
The hush of the floorboards
Breath that made the fruit a sickening sweet

But only in afterimages do I see her face
A late night mirage
In the bathroom, in the closet, in the eggs

In the sticky, wiry ink in which she'd signed her name
Her ghostly whispers calling out
From behind trickles of rain

A permanent spot in the recess of the window frame
Did she lay, nuzzled close
Silently, to wonder, watch and wait

A forever presence even the wind cannot displace
Only one day had she entered
But a thousand she'll stay